


Three points where two lines meet

by jimmriarty



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, M/M, Multi, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-24
Updated: 2015-03-24
Packaged: 2018-03-19 11:27:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3608385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jimmriarty/pseuds/jimmriarty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s what Sherlock craves, it’s the thrilling of the chase and the seconds before the explosion of a bomb.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three points where two lines meet

It all began six months before with a letter, Bohemian paper with the imprint of red lipstick and a small magpie drawn at the bottom of the page. It began with Sherlock’s heart pumping so loudly to cover any possible thoughts, with nervous fingers drumming on the taxi glass, with the burning desire to throw himself in a potentially dangerous situation without thinking twice.

It began when he met Jim and Irene together for the first time. Sherlock knew he signed his sentence the very moment he felt his lips instinctively lift upwards.

***

Separately Jim and Irene are capable of stealing all his focus and interest and make him forget the world around them. Together they are two dangerous and highly reactive chemicals and only having them next to each other in the same room is enough to create a situation dangerous and exciting at the same time. It’s what Sherlock craves, it’s the thrilling of the chase and the seconds before the explosion of a bomb.

Even if Sherlock was aware of the link between the two, he has never thought of them together. Jim and Irene are two people too special and with a presence too imposing: just imagining them close seems impossible, almost paradoxical, as if one have to take away all the space available to the other and vice versa. Yet now they are both in front of him, Jim’s hand is on Irene’s hips as she leans against his body, and to Sherlock is like seeing two parallel universes crossing.

It’s weird but intriguing 

***

There are no crimes or complicated puzzles of any kind in their meetings. They simply talk. Each topic of interest is touched, their lips are open in smiles that rarely takes place on their faces and the voice comes out of their mouths excited and full of life. Somehow happy.

Sometimes they finish each other’s sentences and Sherlock thinks it’s nice for once to talk with someone who can understand.

***

Months have passed since that meeting that crossed their existences forever and somehow their bizarre relationship continues to persist. In a state of unstable equilibrium, of course, but it still keeps going and that is what really matters.

At some point along the way with mental stimulation and clever conversations came a physical and sexual component. It was all very natural and spontaneous: one minute before Sherlock’s bright eyes slipped on both Jim’s and Irene’s lips and the moment before they were all half naked in bed, mouths sighing and bodies looking for that warmth they never really felt. 

Sherlock still can’t understand if sex has complicated or simplified their relationship. Maybe both, maybe neither, but it certainly doesn’t matter, because Sherlock likes the way the light filters in through the windows and creates abstract figures on the pale skin of Jim and Irene while the three of them resume their earlier conversations as if nothing happened .

***

Sherlock now can’t get enough of it.

He wouldn’t be able to live again without seeing Jim with the messy hair of who just got out of the bed and a purple shirt that goes a little bigger on him or Irene that, yawning, walks in her underwear in the kitchen. She doesn’t have red lips and blue eyelids because she feel comfortable enough to show herself completely, without hiding her true self behind an image that can’t describe her fully.

Everything is perfect and really, Sherlock wants their relationship to keep working, but sometimes he feels… excluded. Alone.

Sometimes Jim and Irene initiate conversations on deep space and astronomy, Jim obviously has a much bigger knowledge, but Irene is capable of keeping up anyway, Jim’s eyes sparkle like dark skies full of stars speaking of that world he loves in a way Sherlock can’t understand and the detective feels put aside.

He feels excluded even during much more simple conversation: when the two gossip about this or that celebrity, Sherlock can’t help but feel uncomfortable. 

Jim and Irene smile, between giggles they talk about the latest scandals of the entertainment world and Sherlock feels the urge to roll his eyes and interfere at the same time, because it’s inconceivable that they don’t even look at him, because – prey to a boundless egotism – he wants to be the centre of their worlds. He would almost like to shout it in their face, he would like to remind Jim that he created a criminal empire only for him and remind Irene that his name was the password to her phone, her life, her heart. He would like to do it, but something stops him. He can’t figure out if it’s the growing affection he feels for both of them or if it’s something related to his being on the side of the angels and living with John, but it doesn’t really matter.

Jim and Irene are now sitting on the big leather sofa in Irene’s living room and are discussing what apparently is a fantasy TV shows called “Game of Thrones”. Sherlock is standing in front of them, a childish pout on his lips and eyebrows frowning. He knows that he has no reason to be jealous, that Jim and Irene love him but, unfortunately, he can’t control his heart.

Jim and Irene don’t seem to notice it. Sherlock is pretty sure that, at this point, they are ignoring voluntarily, because there is no way two people so brilliant and clever could miss it. The thought makes him roll his eyes and breaks his heart at the same time. He doesn’t want to be left behind. He doesn’t want to be alone again.

He has to fix it.

Without saying a word he approaches the couch, only to let himself fall dramatically on the pillows, just in the space between the two. Two pairs of eyes watch him in disbelief and, even if he’s staring in front of him, Sherlock can almost feel their lips open in a couple of twin smiles, born from the same amusement.

"Honey, if you felt alone you just had to say it..." purrs the soft voice to his left, while a hand rests on his head, fingers curling distractedly around the dark curls the man loves so much, "We can do what you want" adds the woman to his left, brushing her lips against his cheekbones.

Sherlock finds himself smiling.

He just can’t be mad at them for too long.


End file.
